


Coming of Age

by thehyperactivesammich



Series: Soul Marked [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmarks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyperactivesammich/pseuds/thehyperactivesammich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ori frets over his soulmark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A companion piece to Your Name Like Ink on My Skin, Marked by Fate, and Skin on Skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming of Age

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY YOU GUYS, HAVE SOME DWORI!
> 
> I thought for a long time what I wanted this snippet to be about, and I decided I needed to put Ori through some discomfort. 
> 
> So now there are two ways a dwarf can get his soulmark: the long, painful way, like the men and elves have to suffer through; or the easy way, where a dwarf just wakes up one day and is all "Hey, look what showed up last night!"
> 
> Your feedback is appreciated and encouraged!

xxxxxxxxxx

Eighty-three days after his 70th birthday, Ori woke up to a tingling sensation across his right wrist.

The young scribe knew what it was, of course. Most dwarves got away without the discomfort of a soulmark coming in, unlike men and elves, but Ori's family had never been so lucky. Dori'd had a slow-growing mark, and the young dwarfling knew that soulmark discomfort ran deeper on his mother's side.

Ori simply swiped a thumb over the inside of his wrist, got up, and went downstairs to argue with his brothers that he SO was old enough to go on the quest to reclaim Erebor, and they couldn't just leave him alone by their logic anyway!

By the end of the discussion, Nori blamed himself for teaching his younger brother underhanded tactics while Ori went off to go pack, humming the entire time.

xxxxxxxxxx

The discomfort got steadily worse as the quest progressed.

The days it rained were the worst. Those days he felt like he was a thousand years old, and the tingling on his wrist felt like severe rope burn.

Those days Ori could barely hold up a quill to scribe down the day's events.

The young dwarfling held out hope that no one would notice.

Fate had another plan.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Are ye alright, laddie?" Battle-hardened Dwalin asked eight days into their quest.

The brunette dwarf peeked out from under his brown hood. "Mister Dwalin! Uhm..." He fidgeted with his hands. "I'm fine."

"Ye don't look fine," The warrior snorted, plopping down on the log next to Ori. "The inside of yer wrist is all red and raw."

The youngest member of Thorin's Company hid back under his hood, pulling his sleeve over his wrist, and wincing when the fabric scraped over his sensitive flesh. "I'm fine," He mumbled, shrinking in on himself.

"...Tell Oin if it gets any worse, laddie," Dwalin patted his shoulder, and went away to go stand by Thorin.

xxxxxxxxxx

To the astonishment of most of the Company, Ori found he rather enjoyed Fíli and Kíli's company.

With the archer being only seven years older then Ori, and Fíli, twelve years, the brothers understood the plight the scribe was going through, what with Bilbo and the older dwarves constantly mother-henning them and worrying about them and making sure they were okay even if they had only tripped for a second.

Kíli and Fíli did their best to make him feel included, dragging him into their badgering of the Hobbit about Halfling soulmate customs and poking him until he joined in the songs the dwarves sang around the campfire. Kíli often took time to show him how to hit a target further away with his slingshot, and both of the brothers did their best to cheer him up when he was down.

Neither of them noticed his raw wrist; or if they did, they said nothing about it.

xxxxxxxxxx

Ori conceded defeat to his wrist the morning he woke up and it was bleeding.

It was raining, of course.

The young scribe did his best to keep it hidden on his way to go see Oin, but Nori caught him on his way over.

"Ori, I saved you a spot for breakfast-" Nori stopped, and grabbed his upper forearm. "Ori, you're bleeding! What happened?"

"Nothing!" He squeaked, shrinking under his older brother's gaze. Some of the other dwarves were watching them, and Ori could feel the tips of his ears burning.

"That doesn't look like nothing!" Nori insisted, dragging him over to the thief's pack. "Sit down, I'll bandage it for you."

"Nori, I'm not a baby!" The scribe protested, even though he was barely out of dwarf childhood.

"Maybe not, but I'm still older then you," Nori huffed, swabbing his younger brother's wrist. "Tell me what happened, yeah? Don't make me call Dori over."

Ori sulked, hunching his shoulders in. "My soulmark's coming in, is all," The brunette dwarf muttered. "I didn't want to worry you guys."

Nori slipped two fingers under his younger brother's chin, tilting his head up to meet the thief's eyes. "Ori, next time, worry us. I know we've been suffocating you, but Dori and I are just really worried about you. Ma'd never forgive us if something happened to you. Yeah?"

"Okay," Ori agreed, offering his forearm so Nori could wrap his bloodied and battered wrist.

"Good," The ginger dwarf tapped his chin once, then set about to gingerly wrapping Ori's wrist.

The scribe winced, shifted against the ground, and blushed when he caught Dwalin's gaze from across the camp.

xxxxxxxxxx

Five days later, they were in Rivendall, much to Thorin's chagrin.

Ori didn't mind it too much, besides the green food. Seriously, who ate green food? What was wrong with meat and chips? Green food tasted like...dirt. And maybe some death too.

"Just try one mouthful," Dori prodded, but the brunette dwarf shook his head.

"I don't like green food," He said mournful. "Have they got any chips?"

Next to him, Nori snorted. Farther down the table, Dwalin was griping about the lack of meat, and Fíli and Kíli were throwing potatoes at each other.

"There are nutrients in green food that you can't get in meat," Dori sighed at him.

"Still not eating it," Ori scowled, pushing the bowl away from him and crossing his arms.

"Alright, crybaby," Nori chuckled. "How's your wrist?"

"Pretty much all healed," The scribe lowered his voice. "That means it's gonna show up soon, right?"

The ginger dwarf nodded, patting him on the back. "Any day now."

xxxxxxxxxx

He was bright red.

There was silence around the campfire, and Dwalin was staring at him, while his brother's were frowning.

Ori ducked his head, bashful, peeking up through his bangs as the hardened warrior walked over to him.

"I-" He murmured, but rose to his feet as Dwalin gently held his wrist, brushing a kiss over the D and knuckle duster etched into his skin. The action was soothing to his raw skin, and he glanced back at his brothers before following Dwalin down the hall.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Dwalin, I-" Ori started once they reached the tattooed warrior's quarters, but the older dwarf cut him off with a deep but gentle kiss. 

"Ori," He rumbled. "Take off my bracelet, and ye will find all the proof ye need to put yer mind at rest...my little one."

The scribe flushed deeply, but gently removed the silver cuff from his other half's wrist, barely holding back a giggle when the mitten inked on Dwalin's wrist was revealed.

"May I kiss ye, little scribe?"

"Yes," Ori murmured, and tilted his head back for a kiss.

Th silver cuff hit the floor with a loud thud, but neither dwarf heard it, for they were too absorbed in each other.

Finally, Ori thought, a hand grasping onto Dwalin's coat. Finally, finally...the pain was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got one more piece for this series planned...then I think I may be done with Soul Marked.


End file.
